Murder Near Slaughter

by L. A. Nisula

  Miss Dyer smiled as she watched me try to get my bearings. “Mr. Hilliard is a dear, but he’s also a gossip. Likes to keep up with what’s happening on his route, so he says. And it would not do for anyone to think we were going soft on Lord Hector.”

  Miss Hayworth nodded. “And we’d also prefer the whole village not know about the body-moving. I mean, I’m sure it seems to you that it’s a common pastime in Eybry, but we’d prefer not to be associated with it, being rather new to the area and all.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “I quite understand.”

  “I think you do. Now you know this inspector,” Miss Dyer said. “What do you think is the best way to deal with him?”

  “Well, he’s not the one doing the arresting at the moment, and from the way he stormed out, I don’t think he likes the arrest. It might be best to allow him to glare for a while. It might scare some sense into Sergeant Harris.”

  “It’s more likely to put his back up, I’m afraid,” Miss Hayworth said. “He’ll insist he’s right just to hide how unsure he is.”

  I could see Sergeant Harris doing just that, and Inspector Wainwright becoming more stubborn as he was more certain he was right. “So the pair of them will be arguing all day while Lord Hector sits in a cell. Then the best thing might be for us to present ourselves as witnesses for Inspector Wainwright’s version of events. It will give him something to point to if nothing else.”

  Miss Hayworth considered what I’d said. “And Sergeant Harris can pretend we brought him some new facts that will allow him to back down without losing face, yes, I do see how that might work.”

  “I only hope Lord Hector appreciates all the trouble we’re going to on his behalf,” Miss Dyer grumbled. “Here we are.”

  When we entered the police station, the constable on duty greeted us as soon as we approached his desk. “Were you here to report something, ladies?”

  I decided we’d have the best luck going to Inspector Wainwright. He seemed most likely to take our view of Lord Hector’s guilt, and if this station was anything like Scotland Yard, they wouldn’t be eager to go and announce a visitor to him at the best of times, and certainly not when he was in a mood, as I was sure he was now. “We have some information for Inspector Wainwright.”

  “The London man? He left orders not to be disturbed.”

  “It’s very important,” Miss Hayworth said quickly.

  “He’ll want to hear what we have to say,” Miss Dyer said at almost the same time.

  I picked up the thread from them. “So if you don’t want to direct us to him, you might want to check and see if he wants to see us before you send us off.” There, I’d given him three choices, two of which involved possibly dealing with an irate Inspector Wainwright and one which left him out of it altogether.

  I could see him weighing the thought of going back to ask only to be glared at for disturbing the inspector versus sending us away and being glared at for letting some important bit of information get away. Fortunately, he chose the option I’d been hoping for. “I suppose you know your business. He’s in the back with the sergeant.”

  “Thank you.” I hurried past his desk before he changed his mind. Miss Hayworth and Miss Dyer followed.

  Chapter 16

  THE HALLWAY BEHIND THE RECEPTION DESK was as I remembered it from my first round of questioning. I was trying to recall which of the doors led to Sergeant Harris’s office when we heard him yelling, “I think I know my own village and my own case!” We couldn’t hear Inspector Wainwright’s response, but then he wasn’t one for yelling in arguments, more coldly staring at you until you let him speak. In any case, we were able to follow Sergeant Harris’s voice to his office.

  Sergeant Harris had closed his door to meet with Inspector Wainwright, but none of us seemed inclined to knock. I was closest to the knob, so I opened the door and found Sergeant Harris standing in front of his desk, which put his back to us, in the middle of detailing his reasons for arresting Lord Hector, which seemed to be centered around the fact that he was living at Trillwell Lodge. Inspector Wainwright was standing across from him, holding his notebook as if he were intently reviewing his notes, not saying anything, not showing any reaction to Sergeant Harris’s arguments, which seemed to be making Sergeant Harris more nervous than an argument would have.

  “And he is a known drunkard who is not welcome at the pub. And he has been bringing people of dubious character into the village on a regular basis. How are we to know there aren’t murderers among them?”

  Inspector Wainwright spotted us in the doorway just then. Instead of ignoring us, he rolled his eyes and went to lean against the cabinet by the wall. It almost seemed he was making room for us in the office, which I took as permission to go in.

  Sergeant Harris didn’t notice us. He was too busy giving what he seemed to think was his best argument for arresting Lord Hector. “And I found evidence that the victim had been at Trillwell Lodge the day he died.”

  Miss Dyer startled him by saying, “Of course there was evidence of him being at Trillwell Lodge; we left him there.”

  Sergeant Harris turned and saw the three of us standing in the office. Clearly, he didn’t know how to answer Miss Dyer and just stared at us, not even managing a good glare as Inspector Wainwright would have. Inspector Wainwright showed no reaction at all either to Miss Dyer’s statement or Sergeant Harris’s confusion.

  “We did tell you that,” Miss Hayworth pointed out.

  “Well, he moved the body,” Sergeant Harris snapped and picked up the file from the desk as if that ended the argument.

  “So did we,” Miss Dyer answered. “Are you going to arrest us?”

  I wasn’t sure that was the best approach to take with Sergeant Harris so angry. It seemed Miss Hayworth agreed with me. At least, she added, “And Mr. Reynolds moved him to our yard. And Mr. Briggs helped Lord Hector to move him. And Mr. Elliott moved him to the churchyard, which I suppose makes Mr. Simmons and the vicar both suspects as well.”

  Inspector Wainwright didn’t bother to look up from his notes as he asked, “How much of the village were you planning on arresting? And where do you plan on putting them?”

  “Lord Hector is my best suspect.”

  “Lord Hector is no better a suspect than Miss Dyer or Mr. Elliott or the vicar.” Inspector Wainwright looked up then and stared directly at Sergeant Harris. “You know his defense will call all of them, and they will all say how they moved the body as well. Do you truly believe a judge or jury will find him a better suspect than any of this lot?”

  “Then perhaps I should be looking at Miss Pengear, as the body ended up in her sitting room.”

  Inspector Wainwright looked as if he wanted to tell him to go ahead and try that and was restraining himself with great effort.

  While it was interesting to watch him struggle to hold his tongue, we didn’t really have time for it, so I pointed out, “I have alibis for the entire day, from the time I left London to the time you arrived at Mrs. Foster’s cottage.” It seemed a good idea to remind everyone that I had no claim on the cottage, the sitting room, or the hearth rug. “And you only found the body at all because I sent for you. Did you want me to go over the whole timeline again?”

  Sergeant Harris threw the file back down on his desk. I assumed that meant he remembered my detailed accounts of my alibis.

  Inspector Wainwright picked up the file. “Caution him not to leave the area and let him go. It’s your only logical choice. You won’t get anywhere in court with your case as it stands now, and if you are right, you’ll have ruined your chances of bringing charges later.”

  Sergeant Harris grabbed a set of keys from the desk and stormed out of the office.

  I waited until I thought he was out of hearing to ask, “Those are the keys to the jail?”

  “I assume so, yes.” Inspector Wainwright tucked the case file under his arm and left the office without saying anything else to us. I thought we should consider that a good thing. />
  “So what do you suppose happens now?” Miss Dyer asked me as we left the office ourselves.

  “I would think Sergeant Harris would yell a bit, then tell Lord Hector to stay in the area and let him go. There’ll be some paperwork, and from what I’ve seen of Sergeant Harris, some more yelling, and then he’ll be free to go back to the lodge.”

  “Well, that seems to be a job well done,” Miss Dyer said as she pulled her gloves back on.

  Miss Hayworth nodded. “It does seem to be. How long do you suppose the paperwork will take?”

  I thought back to the various times I’d gotten people out of prison. “I doubt there’ll be much of a wait as this is a small place, so I’d say not more than half-an-hour. Probably less.”

  “Then we’d best get going, Nora. We don’t want to run into him on the way out. It would be awkward all round. Were you coming, Miss Pengear?”

  “I thought I’d stay and see if I could get any information out of Inspector Wainwright while he’s feeling grateful for our help.” I saw their expressions and smiled. “Yes, that was grateful. I’m sure someone here can help me arrange a ride back to Oakwood Cottage. If nothing else, Inspector Wainwright will just to get rid of me.”

  Miss Hayworth tried not to laugh at that. “And if he doesn’t, or you don’t like the offer, try down by the post office. There’s usually someone around with a cart who’ll be happy to bring you for a very reasonable price.”

  Miss Dyer had been less successful at keeping a straight face and was laughing behind her glove. “Be sure to tell us if there’s anything interesting.”

  I walked with them back towards the front of the police station, only to run into Sergeant Harris coming out of his office. “Where are you going?”

  “Home,” Miss Hayworth said crisply.

  “Not without giving statements.”

  “We already told you what happened, multiple times,” Miss Dyer pointed out. “It’s not our fault you chose not to take good notes.”

  “I see, so the statement you gave wasn’t accurate enough to be put down in a report that you would have to sign.”

  “You sign the report, they sign witness statements,” I pointed out for no reason other than he was annoying me.

  Sergeant Harris turned to me. “You do not need to give a statement.”

  Miss Hayworth winked at me behind his back. “Come along, Helen, it’s probably faster to humor him.”

  “I suppose, if he promises to take proper notes this time.”

  Sergeant Harris turned back to the pair of them, obviously torn between gloating over having gotten his way and complaining about how he’d gotten it. Not that they gave him much time to decide on his answer. They’d barely given him time to turn before they started walking back towards his office. Sergeant Harris had to hurry to catch up with them.

  I decided to leave Sergeant Harris to the pair of them and went in search of Inspector Wainwright. It was possible I could get a little information out of him while he was grateful—or ought to be—for our assistance.

  I found my way to Inspector Wainwright’s office, which turned out to be a table in the back of a sort of common room at the end of the hall, without any trouble; however, Lord Hector was sitting across from him, looking very fidgety and contrite. It seemed Inspector Wainwright hadn’t needed any additional witness statements to process Lord Hector’s release. I decided against bothering him and slipped away before either of them noticed me.

  Of course, that left the decision of whether to wait until Lord Hector had left the station and return, which might still allow me to get some information out of Inspector Wainwright, or try to get back to the cottage before it got too late. Staying seemed the better option if I wanted to keep abreast of what was happening in the case—I wouldn’t have many chances to point out to Inspector Wainwright how helpful my assistance had been—but then he would most likely be quite annoyed after having had to get Lord Hector released and deal with Sergeant Harris. Still, I had seen him annoyed many times before. And either way, I ought to find something to eat as there was likely to be a long wait in either case. With that in mind, I made for the high street.

  There were many more options for lunch in Stow-on-the-Wold than in Eybry, but as there was no one to make a recommendation, I wasn’t sure that was necessarily a good thing. I was still considering my options when I heard my name called. “Miss Pengear. Just the person I need.”

  I turned and saw Mr. Burton coming up the street towards me. I paused so he could catch-up, not really certain I wanted him to. “Good afternoon.”

  “Yes, you are just the person I need. You wouldn’t mind helping me, would you? It’s a small matter.”

  I wanted to say absolutely not, I have enough to do on my own, but I settled for, “I do have some business in town,” and hoped he wouldn’t ask what it was.

  “This will only take a minute.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he kept speaking, speeding up his words to block any chance I’d have of interrupting.

  “I’m just checking out the competition, and you see, it’s rather tricky to do without being obvious. If you could just step into Mr. Sundur’s store and check a couple of prices for me, it would be such a help. And then I can escort you to your appointment. It will be much faster with someone who knows the town. And I will take full blame if you’re late.”

  The fastest way to get rid of him seemed to be to go along with him and get it over with. “What were you wanting me to check?”

  Mr. Burton smiled as he realized I was agreeing. “Mrs. Quimby’s Quality Tinned Goods. Now that I have the discount, I want to see how he had them placed in his selection of items, but I don’t want him to know I’m behind it, so you see the difficulty. If you could just go in and purchase something.”

  I’d had the impression he was on friendly terms with the owner of the shop here, so he must have wanted to spy and keep the relationship pleasant. I sighed. “I don’t need any tinned goods, but I will see if I can find the price of something. Will that do?”

  “Yes, yes, that would do nicely. I’ll show you where the shop is.”

  Mr. Sundur’s shop was on the high street, not far from where I’d met Mr. Burton, in fact close enough that I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he’d been lurking outside of it, trying to figure out how to carry out his mission when he’d spotted me, which made me wish quite fervently that I had taken another route when I’d left the station. From the outside, the shop was similar to Mr. Burton’s, being on the ground floor of the same sort of honey-colored stone building that could have passed for a cottage pressed up against its neighbors, except for the fact that it was larger and the front windows had been turned over to advertisement posters.

  “If you’d just go in and see what you can find out, without mentioning my name, of course.”

  It seemed best to get it over with. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Excellent. I’m sure that will be sufficient. I’ll meet you by the chemist’s on the corner there when you’ve finished.” He hurried off to the meeting place before I could protest. I went inside, determined to stay for as short a time as possible.

  Inside, the shop was larger than Mr. Burton’s back in Eybry, with more variety, although the section of shelves for customers to browse through on their own was roughly the same size. I crossed my fingers that the tinned fruit would be in that section and started to wander between the shelves of jams and digestive biscuits.

  “May I help you, miss?”

  Not what I had wanted at all. I turned and tried my best to look pleased. “I was wondering where your tinned fruit was.” I crossed my fingers that it was somewhere nearby, but I had no such luck.

  The young clerk was neatly dressed in a suit with a large apron over it. He’d combed his hair just so and had most likely been looking in the mirror multiple times during the morning. He gave me a neat smile that I expected had also been practiced in front of the mirror several times and said, “Right b
ehind the counter here. Come along and I’ll show you what we have.”

  There didn’t seem to be any option but to follow him to the counter and watch while he pointed out the selection. “Now, what would you like?”

  As I had no intention of buying anything, I thought fast. “A friend was planning to make some pies and wanted me to let her know what sort of tinned—” I scanned the shelf, trying to spot something that came in all three brands and could be used for a pie. “Tinned cherries you had.”

  “Certainly. We have three brands.” He proceeded to show me the cans, the size, the price. I noted it all down, hoping it was enough to get rid of Mr. Burton without offending him.

  When the clerk had finished, I closed my notebook and thanked him for his time and hurried from the store before he could ask anything else or recommend I buy something on the spot.

  Mr. Burton was waiting for me by the chemist’s as he’d said, standing in the middle of the pavement and forcing pedestrians to go around him. “You found something.”

  “I did.” I handed him the page from my notebook and hoped that would be enough to satisfy him.

  He took it and began to read my numbers eagerly. I was going to slip away before he could come up with another mission when I heard him say, “That’s interesting,” in a tone that suggested he had indeed found something interesting and wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “It is?” I had thought the information quite mundane myself.

  “Yes, he gets a discount from Mr. Reynolds on the Mrs. Quimby’s, yet charges the same as I do. It gives him more profit, of course, but he’d only need a small reduction in price to encourage some of the village ladies to come here or to tell their husbands or sons to stop on their way home, and yet he doesn’t. I find that interesting.”